


The Seventeenth Cycle

by SherlockMalfoy



Series: my harry potter crackfics & unfinished tales [6]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universes, Character Deaths, Loveless Marriage, M/M, Master of Death, Post Mpreg, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-23
Updated: 2019-01-23
Packaged: 2019-10-15 03:45:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17521370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SherlockMalfoy/pseuds/SherlockMalfoy
Summary: Harry hadn't known that to become the Master of Death was to become ageless. Deathless. Not until he saw his universe burn. As the Master of Death he lives through universe after universe, sending out his Hallows to find a worthy companion for eternity. After 16 cycles of reality, there's still one thing he wants to change...It's not kidnapping if technically the baby is just yourself, right?





	The Seventeenth Cycle

**PROLOGUE THE FIRST**  
  
    The last thing he remembered was a flash of blinding hot light.  
    And it was the most painful death he had ever experienced.  
    And this death was unique, and glorious.  
    The universe had lasted billions more years. Trillions even.  
    He had spent most of it sleeping. Dreaming of bushy hair and freckled smiles. Of magic and muggles and flying on brooms. Of his wife and children who he had watched age and die, unable to join them...  
    Of wars... God so many wars... So much blood and battle and death.  
    So many inventive ways to die.  
    At the end of all things, he had resigned himself to existing in a void. A vacuum. If he couldn't die then surely the end of all things wouldn't even be enough to kill him.  
    After all, he was The Boy Who Lived.  
    And live he certainly did.  
    So one must imagine his surprise when he came to in not an empty void, but rather a very busy train station.  
    "You're awake."  
    "Where am I?"  
    "Terminus."  
    "It looks like King's Cross."  
    "So it does," the woman in green said with a smile. "That must have been quite a shock. A big bang like that. Gorgeous though."  
    "I suppose so..." he sat up with a frown, and she helped him to a bench. "Wait, who even are you?"  
    "Sorry," she said with an awkward smile before offering her hand. "My name is... well... Was Siobhan. Siobhan Blackhart. I used to work in the Ministry of Magic for Lord Grimstone."  
    "Grimstone... i don't recall any family by that name."  
    "I'm a huge fan of your work, Mr. Potter," she said, suddenly changing the subject. "How you handled those Horcruxes... I've never seen anything like it. Truly amazing you were able to accomplish it. That last one... what a doozy. Didn't see that one coming. Fate likes to throw a curve-ball every now and again to see what happens. She gets rather bored easily. Her sister Destiny is no better. Though a lot better put together than Mortimer and Lafayette. Those two... ugh. You'll be working more with Mortimer though. I mean, it's not his name or anything. But we had to call them something. I mean, yeah, shouting at Death is fun and all, and can be pretty impressive, but when you're trying not to tell people you're immortal and command Death itself... You've just got to have something a bit more covert to call him, you know?"  
    "What in Merlin's name are you going on about?"  
    "Oh... so he didn't... If he wasn't already dead I'd strangle him! I KNEW I shouldn't have trusted that dodgy old fool..."  
    Harry's dull eyes lit up now and he seemed to sit up just a bit straighter. "What was his name?"  
    "Dumblydoodle? Dumbledongle?"  
    "Dumbledore?"  
    "Yes! That's it!" she exclaimed. "I had my hands full with Mortimer at the time making sure he didn't take too many. It wouldn't do for you to save the world and not have anyone left in it to talk to, now would it?" she said with a shake of her head. "Unfortunately when you died and became the new Master of Death I wasn't here to greet you. He offered to do it, saying a friendly face might help you deal with the situation better. It took me four hundred years to find that piece of rubbish he left under the bench... You don't just leave fragmented souls just lying about. The last time that happened... well..." she said, pointing at his scar. "You'd know all about what happens. After all, someone had to have done it first and written down how to do it."  
    He almost seemed to recoil from her as she sighed, then stood. "Walk with me, Mr. Potter. There is much to discuss before the cycle begins again."  
  
**PROLOGUE THE SECOND**  
  
    It had been many 'cycles' since he had lived. While Siobhan had explained to him the basics, such as creating an envoy to scour the world for those worthy enough to have the Hallows - those accursed items - bestowed upon them so that Destiny may weave her web where she will as Sister Fate pulled all the strings...  
    She had not told him what would happen when a reality cycle would repeat familiar elements.  
    It had been quite a shock when on his fourth cycle of reality he felt a strange hum of magic pulling him from across the globe to discover that on the night of July 31st, a green eyed boy was born in England to a James and Lily Potter.  
    For fourteen years he lived with that strange hum, but could not interfere with the prophesy that had been laid out for the boy.  
    And then, inexplicably, the hum ceased and he was left in silence.  
    It was Cedric Diggory that dragged the cold body of Harry Potter back to Hogwarts using the Tri-Wizard cup portkey that fateful night.  
    Death cackled. Life wept. Sisters Fate and Destiny sighed and turned to another web to weave. And the Master of Death learned what happens when you drink far too much firewhisky than advisable that night.  
    It was his seventh cycle before he felt the Hallows start to draw together as one. Neville Longbottom, unfortunately, was disarmed before he could draw against the Dark Queen Bellatrix Riddle.  
    The night the Master of Death saw the Terminus filled with only the souls of children in school robes - nearly all were muggleborns and half-bloods - he vowed to find a way around the Seer Rule that forbade him from interfering when a prophesy was in play.  
    He had wept for the first time since his own life. He had wept for the lives lost and the souls of all the dead children that had littered the holy walls of Hogwarts that night. That is, until he felt a gentle hand on his shoulder. "I remember you," she said sweetly. Her long, white-blond hair framed the pale smiling face he knew so well in another world so long ago. "I saw you the night Neville brought Cedric back from the graveyard."  
    He wiped at his face and tried to smile. "Sorry. I must look a mess."  
    "It's alright," she said. "You almost had it this time."  
    "Had what?"  
    "A friend," she said. "It must get lonely for you sometimes."  
    He nodded. The train gave a whistle. "You'd better get going, Luna," he said, making her smile brighten all the more. "You don't want to miss the train."  
    "Where does it go?" she asked.  
    "On, I suppose," he replied.  
    "That sounds like fun," she said, giving him a sudden hug that he didn't know what to do with. "I'll see you again, Harry Potter," she said before pulling away. He was so stunned that she spoke his name - a name he had not used in so long he almost had forgotten what it sounded like to hear another speak it. By the time he had recovered, she had boarded the train seconds before it pulled out of the station.  
    That was the fifteenth reality cycle. One that did not have a Harry Potter at all. For the remainder of that cycle, he did not leave the Terminus unless he had no other choice in the matter, having to leave to go reign in Death from time to time.  
    When Fate and Destiny played their hands come the sixteenth cycle of reality, the Master of Death found himself exploring the world. It had been so similar to his own that he could not help but compare the two. Only small, minor differences between the two existed, so he decided to try his hand at making small, subtle changes here and there.  
    Huddled in a dive bar in rural America, keeping his head down as the magical communities geared up for war against the Magical Empire of Lord Voldemort across the Atlantic, he felt the Hallows come together. Time to the Master of Death was nothing more than a small scale to count the length of a reality. The death of the martyr Harry Potter felt as if it had happened just that morning when in fact it had happened five months ago. And with the death of this world's Potter his hope of the Hallows being brought together and activated had also been dashed.  
    When he felt the first tug, he wrapped his magic around himself and faded into the shadows with a whispered word, only to reappear at the source of the pull.  
    The Master of Death had thought his heart had gone cold and empty. He had believed himself to be numb to the emotions of grief and heartbreak as Death loomed over the broken bodies he had stumbled across.  
    Black robes and silver masks. Clearly the victims hadn't gone down without a fight. This was the worst part, in his opinion. As he stepped over familiar faces that he had once seen in other lives so filled with joy and happiness, he heard a sharp, high pitched wail. He followed the sound to a bloody bundle.  
    "Hold!" he roared as Death had loomed ever closer to the tiny creature. A shimmer of fabric caught his eye as he knelt to see who or what it was. "It is wrapped in my Cloak. We would Bargain for this one."  
    "It is too late to Bargain," Death hissed at him. "My brother has forsaken this one."  
    "But it is a baby!" he shouted. "A baby among the corpses!"  
    Death hissed. "Even babes must die. This one... this one is a Never Was. Anomaly. Aberration. Made from tainted and vile magics. He is Mine," the dark wraith hissed. "Even now, look how it fades. The last vestiges of light before the great sleep."  
    And the Master of Death could not argue. The injuries so severe even he could not help the poor child. "Be swift and gentle then. I will accompany it to Terminus personally." Carefully he picked up the baby that had been wrapped in his invisible cloak as if to hide and protect it. He cradled it lovingly in his arms as if such a little, innocent creature belonged in them.  
    "You are an unusual Master," was the reply as Death's bony finger reached out, gently tapping the small babe in his Master's arms. It yawned, bright green eyes looking up at him a moment before they closed. "No pain now, little one," Death said with almost a hint of compassion. Almost.  
    The Master of Death slipped between the realms with but a thought, arriving in the white space of the world between worlds. When he arrived he searched the faces. He could not take the wee one onto the train himself, and sought a kind witch or wizard to take him On.  
    "No!"  
    It was a long, sorrowful cry that had caused the babe to begin to wail. He turned to the sound as he rocked the poor child in his arms, attempting to settle him. He had his head bent, whispering to the wee one as the sobs nearby grew louder and more agitated. Once the boy in his arms had finally settled, he looked up to see what all the commotion was about.  
    "Not Cygnus! Not him! Please.... please don't let it be him!"  
    "Excuse me?" the Master of Death called to them, trying to get their attention. Finally a figure turned to him. A large burn scar took up half his face, and he recognized it from the old school he had been drawn to. "Excuse me, everyone," he tried again. "Are one of you this child's mother?"  
    He watched as the burn scarred man tugged the sleeve of a red haired woman, and got the attention of another woman with frizzy hair pulled into a tight bun. There were others, and he matched their faces to the bodies he had seen. It must have been the correct group of souls after all. He hadn't noticed their expressions of varied states of disbelief when they saw him.  
     "Only... I can't take him On myself and I don't want to just leave him and hope someone will come by. My predecessor warned me about leaving souls wandering around here too long... causes all sorts of trouble for the next cycle... Speaking of, if you see any broken souls in black under the benches, do let me know. People have a habit of dumping horcruxes all over my floors when there's perfectly good rubbish bins not two feet from them."  
    He knew he was rambling. In fact, it was mostly just nervousness since they all seemed to just be gaping at him. Then he nodded down to the baby resting happily in his arms. "So... this belong to anyone?"  
    "I.... I..." a thin, pale blond one managed with a broken sob.  
    The man with the burn scar stepped forward, taking the little bundle hesitantly from him. The man glanced from the child's smiling face to that of the Master of Death. Or rather... the gaze flicked to the mark upon the man's head.  
    The change in the demeanor of Death's Master was immediate once he realize who they thought he was. "The train will be leaving soon. Those who are going On need to be boarding." He turned away, intending to leave them be now that the precious package had been handed off. He needed to return to the land of the living, and consult with Life and Death as to the tallies of their latest game while he waited to see who among them would be waking up in the ruins of the old Hogwarts School.  
    At least, that was his intention until a hand shot out to grab his arm and turn him back around. Wild brown eyes bore into him, trying to search for something, anything. "Harry? Is it really... Are you really-"  
    "I'm sorry... but your Harry Potter has already moved On. He waited for the very last of the dead from the Battle of Hogwarts before taking the last train. He wanted to make sure everyone else got along alright and that no one was left here alone." He gave a small nod before excusing himself. The train whistle blew. "You lot had best be off."  
    He waited hours and hours in the ruins of the castle. The only one he buried was the sweet babe with the haunting green eyes, not wanting whomever it was who rose up to see it lying still in death. He said a few words, and returned to his vigil.  
    The Master of Death sat pondering his own death 15 cycles previous. He had awakened as if from a dream. Then again, his situation had been quite different. He'd had a piece of someone else inside, and it was that which had been traded to Death, who was happy to let him go in return of collecting the cheating Thomas Riddle. Little did he know...  
    Draco Malfoy awakened in the ruins of the castle with a howl of soul-wrenching agony. The Master of Death turned his attention to him. "Well," he said, staring at the sobbing wreck of a man on the floor. "I certainly didn't expect you to be the one to greet Death willingly..."  
    "Cygnus. Where's Cygnus!"  
    "The child?"  
    "My son! I came back to... to..."  
    "To bury him."  
    "Someone has to."  
    "Come," he said, hopping off the stone and making for the path. "Mind the bodies. I'd like to see if someone comes to claim them before finding a nice plot for them." The Master of Death led the way to a small, quiet place near the lake. It was peaceful here and in another world in another time, he would often find himself sitting beneath the tree and skipping stones across the water in the hopes of seeing the giant squid he knew lived within.  
    "I did not know his name, but I did try to find a nice place for him. He was alive when I arrived. Bundled in my invisibility cloak. I suppose... it belonged to his father."  
    Draco whispered, but his words were lost in the breeze as he fell to his knees over the grave.  
    The Master of Death stood nearby, watching curiously as the man knelt and sobbed until no more tears would come. For the first time since his first life - his true life - the Master of Death felt a stirring in his heart. Beyond heartbreak, beyond sadness and sorrow - and certainly more than the detached compassion he had become accustomed to over the many long cycles. He said nothing, but came forward to stand by the man who cried with no more tears to shed. He put a hand on his shoulder, and he waited for his own deeply hidden rage to pass.  
  
**PROLOGUE THE LAST**  
  
    It was a chilly night.  
    Not too cold, but not exactly warm either.  
    The pair waited. And waited.  
    Then, the slightest movement across the street. The invisible house came into view as the charm keeping the cottage protected broke - the wards shattering like thin panes of glass.  
    A flash of green in the bottom windows.  
    A strange whirlwind of red and green from the top level blew out half the house.  
    Vermin scattered like so many rats from a sinking ship.  
    One man moved through shadow and mist. Unseen and unknown.  
    He had mere moments in which to act.  
    He had spent many cycles calculating and studying how to break this particular twist of cruel thread strung by Destiny and plucked by Fate at her whimsy. It was necessary, he had realized, to effect change so drastic but in a way of pure subtlety to break the stagnation of the cycles. To bring new avenues of reality into existence rather than recycling and retelling the same old tales.  
    And on this dreary Halloween night the carefully plotted out course would be set into motion.  
    As he drifted through the broken home, searching and sensing his way through the wreckage, he heard three things. A child's wail. A pop of apparition. And the rumble of a motor in the distance.  
    The figure had just reached the child, his forehead already bearing the mark of the foul creature that had murdered it's mother before him, when he heard the thundering of feet up the stairs. He waited for just a few moments to see which figure it had been first. The wild dog or the doe in snake-skin that would find the precious flower that had wilted for it's seedling.  
    If one were to ask Severus Snape about what he witnessed that night in the ruins of Potter's Cottage, in the nursery of the child of his former friend, he would say nothing other than the child was not there. But to himself, whenever his thoughts strayed towards that dark, horrifying night that the Dark Lord was destroyed, he would sit quietly. He would sit with a shot-glass in one hand and a bottle of firewhisky in the other, and try to drown out those eyes. Those haunting Avada-green eyes peering out at him from beneath a mop of messy black hair, the rest of the figure obscured by smoke as it spirited the child of Lily Potter away.  
  
**ONE**  
  
    Harry James Potter lived a happy life at Stormbreaker Manor. He had tutors. And he had friends, in-so-much as he could call the other children of the American rich and famous friends. He knew them, they knew him. But he didn't really spend a lot of time with them. Most of them were what his tutors had called 'no-maj' anyway so he couldn't spend too much time with them even if he'd wanted to.  
    He liked to travel. His brother's property in Australia was one of his favorites. The entire home was a series of complex tunnels underground to hide from the deadly heat of the Outback. He always felt most at home there, especially because it was the only place where he had his brother and Cygnus all to himself.  
    He had been nearly everywhere in the world, save Europe. For some reason, his brother or Cygnus always stayed behind with him when there was business in Europe. That had always been a disappointment for the boy, for his brother had always told him stories about "back home".  
    A week before his tenth birthday, Harry hadn't meant to overhear his brother and his husband talking.  
    "We'll be staying at the house in Godric's Hollow."  
    "I still don't like this plan of your's. Taking him back to England is too risky. Here, we can keep him safe. Secure. The blood wards are strongest here."  
    "We've hidden long enough. We can't hide him away anymore."  
    "What do you mean?"  
    A rustle of paper. A gasp. "Are you certain?"  
    "Yes. My contact at Privet Drive assures me that they've checked. The cloaking spells we've used to hide him are weakening, despite my attempts to bolster them with my magic. I had hoped we had more time. Enroll him into school here before the Old Crowd would notice."  
    "As the muggles say, if wishes were fishes then we would have an aquarium."  
    Harry heard his brother sigh and imagined him rubbing at his temples. "That's not... that's not how that goes." A pause. "We'll go to England after the Anniversary. I don't want him around for any memorial speeches or vigils. Especially since we'll be so close to the site itself."

**Author's Note:**

> This story is unfinished and will not be continued.


End file.
